In the Great Hall
by RemyMcKwakker
Summary: Harry and Draco talk after the war. Set right after the Last Battle. Drarry friendship. No slash.


**In the Great Hall**

Harry had been hoping to literally sleep for days so he could just work everything off and maybe process the Last Battle, but it was not to be. He woke to Ron's snoring and tried for half an hour to go back to sleep. _Tried_ being the keyword, because sleep seemed light years away.

Finally, sick of trying to catch up on much-needed Z's, he got out of bed, put on his socks and walked down into the common room. The fire was dying out, and the rest of the room was in disorder, offering neither warmth nor comfort. With a sigh, and determined not to dwell on those lost forever, Harry covered himself with his Invisibility Cloak and left the common room.

He roamed through the hallways and passages, glad that he didn't have the Marauder's Map with him. It would only remind him of the people who weren't on it, and right now, after such a phenomenal triumph, he didn't want to feel any pain.

Fifteen minutes later found him outside the Great Hall. He hesitated for a moment, before steeling himself and walking in.

They had removed the bodies. The Great Hall almost looked like it used to. The house tables and the teachers' table were damaged in places, but other than that it almost looked immaculate. Harry looked around, taking it all in hungrily and trying to imagine what it would have been like if Voldemort had never existed, if he still had parents. All those people would still be alive, and Hogwarts wouldn't half be in ruins.

He was pulled out of his reverie when he saw a dark shape huddled over one of the House tables - Gryffindor, he realized. He walked closer, squinting as he tried to make out who it was. He was about three feet away when he recognized the person as Draco Malfoy.

He shifted closer, trying not to make any sound. At any rate, Malfoy seemed too out of it to hear him. Carefully he lowered himself on the bench next to his rival, but facing the other way. Malfoy seemed not to notice the slight scraping of the bench's legs on the floor. He was slumped forward on the table, his head resting on his arms and his face staring right ahead. Harry observed him for a few moments, trying to figure out what he was doing here at this time of night. Perhaps he was unable to sleep too.

Malfoy surprised Harry by speaking. "I know you're here, Potter."

Harry jumped, causing the bench to scrape against the floor some more and effectively giving himself away. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone coming out harsher than he meant it to.

"Thinking," answered Malfoy, surprising Harry yet again. He'd been expecting something sarcastic.

He took off his Cloak - no point in wearing it when Malfoy knew he was there - and, leaning back against the edge of the table, asked, "About?"

The blond shrugged. "Things," he replied simply, still not looking at Harry. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Couldn't sleep," answered Harry, figuring that if Malfoy was being civil he should try to be as well.

Malfoy snorted. "Obviously."

They lapsed into a silence that Harry found oddly comforting. It was a relief to get away from people intent on admiring him and fussing over him, or wanting to talk about the war. He smirked as he realized he no longer hated Draco Malfoy. If anything, he felt sympathetic towards him. Strange what an enchanted fire could do to you.

A few minutes - or was it hours? - later, Malfoy said, "So, what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know," replied Harry. "Everything's so different now."

Another silence, before Malfoy said, "I thought you wanted to be an Auror."

"Maybe," answered Harry. "In fact, probably."

"Will you be returning for your seventh year?"

Harry considered it. "I might," he said eventually. "What about you?"

"I don't know," Malfoy answered truthfully. "I'm not sure I want to."

"Why not?"

Malfoy let out a derisive laugh. "People might not want me back," he pointed out. As if to prove his point, he pulled at his sleeve until Harry could see the faint edge of his Dark Mark.

"I don't think people will care," Harry opined.

Malfoy smirked mirthlessly. "There's going to be more rivalry between Slytherin and the rest of the school, now that it's all over."

With a jolt Harry realized it was probably true. Malfoy continued, "We won't be seen as human anymore. Even the innocent among us will be targeted, simply for the crime of being Slytherin. We're not all evil, you know," he added, seeming tired.

Harry thought of Snape, and said, "I know."

"Not all of us sided with the Dark - with Voldemort," Malfoy said. He seemed to have forgotten who he was talking to. He still wasn't looking at Harry, just staring straight ahead. "Most of us were victims."

Harry understood what he meant. "You had no choice," he said, keeping his tone carefully gentle. "He would have killed you."

"Many people chose to ignore that, and still stood up against him," pointed out Malfoy.

"Those people had places to hide," Harry said, not knowing why he was defending Malfoy. "Those people didn't have him living inside their houses. Those people didn't have to worry about their families, because their families were also safe."

"Why are you defending me?" asked Malfoy suddenly.

The question took Harry by surprise. After a moment, he answered, "Because I don't want you to blame yourself."

"I tried to kill Dumbledore," Malfoy pointed out, his voice hoarse. "I tried to kill _you_."

"That was Crabbe," Harry reminded him. "And you did try to stop him. And you lied to your father and your aunt for us, that day in your house."

"It doesn't matter, does it?" said Malfoy bitterly. "I'm still a Death Eater."

"Was," Harry corrected him. "You're not one anymore."

"Yeah, because Voldemort's dead."

"No, because you never were one by choice."

Another silence followed, in which Harry attempted to explore why he was sitting and comforting Malfoy, of all people. Surely the world was ending? Perhaps this was a dream, or maybe he was in an alternate universe.

"You know," Malfoy said abruptly, his tone uncertain, "I never really hated you."

"Neither did I, to tell you the truth," admitted Harry. "You just ... annoyed me a lot."

Malfoy ignored the last statement. "Maybe we could have been friends, if things had been different."

"We could still be," Harry offered.

Malfoy finally turned his head to look at him. "You're offering to be friends? With _me_?"

"Unless you know someone else I'm talking to right now, yes," Harry said coolly, but still a little astonished by his own decision.

"Why?"

"I don't know," answered Harry. "Maybe because you're not such a git after all."

Malfoy offered a thin smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. "It's tiring work, being a git," he said.

"I bet it is," Harry agreed. After a momentary pause he said, "So are you going to go back to sleep?"

"I don't want to go down into the dungeons," Malfoy admitted. "It's suffocating down there."

"You can come up to Gryffindor tower," Harry offered. "There's a free bed in the dormitory."

"Whose?" asked Malfoy.

"Mine," Harry said.

"Aren't you going to sleep in it?" Malfoy asked, surprised.

Harry shrugged. "I'll share with Ron."

"And he won't mind?" questioned Malfoy.

"Nah, he probably won't even notice until he wakes up," Harry told him.

"And then?"

"And then nothing."

Malfoy seemed to consider it. "Fine," he finally said. "Okay. As long as your friends don't murder me in my sleep."

"They won't," Harry assured him.

They rose as one, and left the Great Hall. They made their way upstairs in companionable silence, and it wasn't until they reached the foot of the stairs leading to the boys' dormitory that Harry spoke again. "You don't have to look so tense."

"I'm a Slytherin going to sleep in a Gryffindor dormitory," Malfoy pointed out. "How can I not look tense?"

"I promise nothing's going to happen, Malfoy," Harry said, a bit impatiently. "Now come on, I'm sleepy."

Malfoy seemed hesitant, but finally he said, "Okay." And then, "Draco."

"What?" Harry stopped in the act of climbing the stairs.

"It's Draco."

Harry smiled, his first true smile after the war ended. "If you say so, Mal- Draco."

Draco attempted to smile back, but couldn't get his muscles to work for it. Finally he settled for, "So are we going upstairs, or are you just going to stand here and grin like a fool?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Some things never change."

"Yeah," agreed Draco. "You still have a fat head, Potter."

"It's Harry."

* * *

**Reviews are rewarded with Tom Felton-shaped cookies.**

**-Peace**


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